The Pale Hall
by BigBoss3
Summary: He was weary of his existence and power, but Hell's new arrival, an innocent girl who belonged anywhere but the labyrinth, would pull the leader of the Cenobytes from his sadness. Pinhead/OC
1. Routine

Bathed in the unholy black light of Leviathan, the most beloved son of Hell sat. Face in his palms, pins drawing blood from his pale skin, The former Elliot Spencer pondered the meaning of his death.  
His 'death'. It was strange, labeling it with such an unfit word. Transformation would be more appropriate. His...awakening? Yes. In life, when he was part of the world above, he was blind to so much, his mind so weak. Now, surrounded by the cold stone walls of the labyrinth, the Former Elliot Spencer was wise beyond imagination, as well as weary.  
When he had first tried his hand at the skillful practice of the Cenobytes, the practice of torture...he had been excited. How thrilling it was, hearing those moans of pain and knowing that they were his doing. The language of lamentation was his native tongue now. His power over all other's that called the labyrinth their home was invigorating.  
Yes, it had all been so delicious in the beginning.  
Now, he had fallen into a routine. A bloody, fearsome routine but a routine nonetheless. Slowly, he was beginning to miss small bits and pieces of humanity. Sunrises, sugary foods, summery wind...  
Love-making. Yes, there were more than enough Harlots to choose from, but they were cold...full of black sin and wanton desire. Instead of finding their blatant sexuality arousing, he was annoyed by it. Any intimate contact with such filth couldn't be considered love-making.  
He wished that he could rid himself of all longings for such things. He wanted to embrace what he was completely, accept Hell and want for nothing. A day in hell was comparable to a lifetime on earth. It had been years since he had solved the puzzle box...  
A phantom tug pulled at Hell's son with gentle demand, and so he lowered his hands and stood. Above him, in the living world, someone had opened it, just as he had done.  
The former Elliot Spencer started down the nearest hallway, to fulfill his duty.

* * *

The room was small and bare, but for a wooden cross that hung above the bed, above the young girl that lay there. Her doe eyes were open, staring at the small, painted box that sat on the nightstand. She had found it that morning, sitting on a shelf in the convent's library and obscured by books.

If it hadn't been so odd-looking, so weightless in her soft hands, it would have stay on that shelf. Instead, she had tucked it in her habit and left the library in a hurry, head hung low in shame. She didn't suppose it actually belonged to anybody, and the layer of dust that had settled upon its smooth surface was evidence of its abandonment.

Sleep, it appeared, was not going to visit her that night. She reached out for the box and wrapped her dainty fingers around it as she sat up, the cotton sheets pulled up to her chest.  
Her eyes filled with innocent curiosity, the girl allowed her fingers to explore the smooth surface and slight seams. Her thumb grazed the circular groove that adorned the side and on instinct, traced it all the way around. An electric shock, barely powerful enough to be noticed, traveled through her fingertips. The box was changing.  
The girl did not notice the blue light pouring from the door, or the rush of cold air. Her wide eyes were on the box, hands pushing the moving sides into place.  
As the final click echoed through the freezing room, as the puzzle was at last solved, she looked up.


	2. Something Quite Different

Routine. That's what it had become, and it had been that way for quite some time. Thieves and murderers, rapists and gluttons...all who were drawn to the box were stained. There were the foundation of it all, of his existence. Without their greed, he would be meaningless.  
It was all routine, until he entered that wooden bedroom door and saw a wide-eyed girl staring back at him with utter terror.  
She was not part of the routine.  
In an effort to hide his own confusion and bewilderment, the former Elliot Spencer straightened his back and took a strong step forward, drawing a gasp from the puzzle-solver.  
"You opened the box, we came." His voice, booming and deeper than the shadows, made her flinch.  
"We?" Barely a whisper. The son of Hell took a moment to look at his new possession. It proved to be a bad idea.  
She was, in eyes unclouded by 'routine', beautiful. Another thought that ought not to have been explored. Thankfully, footsteps from behind turned his black stare away from the girl. Yes, his loyal Cenobytes.  
They walked into the room slowly, purposefully, so that the girl knew fear. Chattering teeth, smacking lips, sharpening knives. They knew the trade, the routine, and they were not fazed by the puzzle-solver.  
Why was is that such lowly beings, beings that were beneath him in power and rank, were able to keep composure and he...couldn't? He took another step towards the bed, towards the girl. Her rosy cheeks were tear-streaked, lips trembling. Her small hands still held onto the box, as if it was going to protect her. The former Elliot Spencer almost felt pity for her. The cross above her bed then caught his attention, followed by the familiar robes that were draped over a small chair in a corner of the room.  
A chill ran through him then.  
"Where...did you find that?" He demanded, a blood-stained finger pointed towards the box. The girl, who he now knew to be a young woman, looked down at the object in her shaking hands.  
"The l-library." Hell was void of feminine voices, high and sweet in tone. It was so foreign to him. "I-I'm sorry. I'll p-put it back."  
Evil laughter flooded the room; his Cenobytes found her innocent struggle funny, while his face kept it's empty expression.  
"That is impossible. This is how things have been done," another step towards her, "...are done and will be done, until time ceases to exist." He studied her face, each curve and play of the light. "We have such sights to show you, child."  
When he was but a foot from her, his face bathed in the preternatural blue light, the young woman's eyes rolled back and her body fell to the side. The Cenobyte's scoffed and slowly left the room, their disappointment more than evident. It wasn't as if they would never know her flesh, though. In fact, that had an eternity to do just that.  
Reluctantly, the former Elliot Spencer lifted the nun out of the bed and carried her out the door, towards the labyrinth.

**_WELL WELL WELL. Huehuehuehuehue I sure do love Pinhead._**


End file.
